Alias

My third year in California was a bit perplexing. My talent was shining through and our team was on fire. I was number one overall the players in the minors, which meant that I drew attention to myself: both unwanted and wanted.

I had been a force in national ice hockey circles back in L’Ancienne-Lorette, when I was five to nine years old, as Nicholas Seguin. Now, as Nicholas Sharp, I was skating for California teams that I’d played against in tournaments.

Sure, my father could hide as Craig Sharp but my talent gave me away. There were rumors. This secret that everyone knew, but no one asked. No one wanted to hurt me.

At one of the games, a few parents from the minor league team back in Quebec had accompanied their children on a road trip game to play a tournament in California. When I took the ice, I overheard their gasps and comments.

“Isn’t that the little Seguin kid?”

“It’s Nicholas Seguin!”

"No, it's Nicholas Sharp!"

"Nicholas Sharp? That's Nicholas Seguin!"

“What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought his father was arrested.”

“He skipped bail and vanished somewhere.”

“Maybe he’s here? That’s got to be his kid!”

The whispers made me feel a little guilty. I actually felt ashamed enough, that I skated back to the bench, where the coach was.

“Coach,” I remember I said, “Can I sit out for this game, I’m not feeling too great!”

He looked me in the eye, kindly. “Nick, you must learn to fight the ill feelings and play through anything. Your team is more important. If you sit out, you are only hurting your teammates.”

I nodded and played the game. It was one of the lessons that helped me through any situation. I always took his words to heart.

To be honest, the occasional whispers and comments about me during games from parents, weren’t the only remarks being made about me. I was also drawing the interest of other teams and even upper level teams. The Ontario Hockey League kept an eye on me. They liked what I did on the ice.

I was becoming quite the talk of the west. Anywhere I went, people noticed me. They knew me, chanting, “Nicholas Sharp!” I was happy, yes, but I also felt exposed. I fought through it and just continued on, showcasing my skills.

One of the highlight games of my young days with the Kings, was a game against Anaheim’s squad. We were down two goals to the Ducks and had entered the third period under panic. I got the sudden feeling to preach.

“Come on boys, we got this!” I yelled to my teammates, who all wore blank expressions. They were winded and had no courage left in them. It was apparent on their faces.

One of the older boys, named Riley, chimed in, “Listen to Nick. We can come back and get a win! We’ve just got to buckle down and get back to our game!”

A few of the players cried their approval and clapped their hands. The bench became alive. Patrick looked at me and smiled.

“Pat, Nick, you’re on! Get out there!” the coach commanded.

“Let’s do this!” Patrick yowled.

I jumped over the bench, onto the ice with Patrick and my other linemate, a younger guy named Sam. We skated out and Patrick shot off toward the puck, taking it away from the opposing player. He passed it cleanly to Sam, who grabbed it and started for the net. I shot after him, trying to get open.

He didn’t make it very far, before he was contacted by one of the opposing Anaheim Duck players. Sam crashed to the ice and lost the puck.

The ref’s whistle blew, halting the play. Sam struggled to his feet, feeling winded. I immediately skated up to my teammate.

“Hey, Sam, you okay?”

He nodded, but staggered a little on his skates. Patrick came over and quickly grabbed him by his arm, to steady him in place. I grabbed onto him as well. We helped him over to the bench, where Riley aided him the remaining way into the bench.

A sudden thought occurred to me. I skated off from the bench, from Patrick and Sam and headed for the guy who had hit my teammate with an illegal bodycheck.

“Hey, don’t throw that kind of stuff again, okay? You shouldn’t go after opposing players like that. Help your team out by scoring, not being a goon!” I told him, outright.

“It was an accident, man. Who are you anyway?”

“I’m Nicholas Sharp and I’ll always stick up for my team!”

“I like your spirit, dude. You got class and character!”

Nicholas dipped his head, but maintained a stern expression. The two players parted and the Anaheim player shook his head in shock.

That was the first time, I ever pulled a leadership type move. I was only sticking up for my teammate, something my father and the great Joe Sakic taught me. At the time, I just felt right about it.